


Hard To Say I'm Sorry

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ginny aren't speaking due to his terrible behavior over her new boyfriend.  It's really tough to say you're sorry.  Originally published 12 years ago as part of my "Reconnecting" Potterverse.  AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard To Say I'm Sorry

Hard To Say I’m Sorry

by Jenorama

No matter how badly I want to put things right between me and Ginny, I know I have to give her time to cool off. I have spent most of my time since that horrible Sunday trying to come up with different scenarios that will allow me to apologize and get myself back in her good graces. Sometimes, lying awake at night, I feel like a pathetic arse as I run through conversations in my head–conversations that never turn out well for me. 

I know I have been poor company of late, Ron remarking on the fact that I don't seem to want to go out to the pub after work. “What's eating you, mate?” he asks one afternoon, leaning against the doorway of my cubicle.

“Nothing. Just don't feel like going. Got a bit of a headache.” I don't meet his eyes as I pull a stack of paperwork toward me. I love my job, but once I learned about all of the forms and reports involved, I felt like someone had tricked me. 

“Well, doing that lot isn't going to help, yeah? Come on, mate. Let's go–I've got a couple of birds lined up for us.”

Despite my rotten mood, I smile and shake my head, looking up at Ron. He's got his hands in his pockets and is bouncing on the balls of his feet, his shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. “Go on. Maybe you can interest Shacklebolt.”

Ron snorts and rolls his eyes. “Kingsley. Why don't I just bring a wet blanket and have done with it? Listen, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Go. Have fun. Make some trouble, but not too much, yeah?”

“Yeah. All right then, your loss.” He knocks his fist against the wall of my cube a couple of times and walks away, whistling a tune I recognize from one of his Miles Davis CDs.

It's been a week and half since that disastrous Sunday at the Burrow and Ginny and I haven't said a single word to each other, our longest silence since she began attending Hogwarts in my second year. The last Sunday was unbearable and I came close to not going, but chickened out on my plan to fake a stomachache at the last second. If there is one thing guaranteed to bring Molly down upon me it would be an illness, real or imagined.

With a groan I rest my head on the stack of forms and think about the old adage that you never really know what you have until it's gone. Ginny's warmth and friendship was something I realize now that I had been taking for granted for years and I cower inside as I remember the terrible things I had said to her in a fit of petty jealousy. 

It was my own fault for not having been up front with her, for not being honest with her or myself with regards to my feelings. I was so used to pushing people away, to not getting close to anyone that I let her slip away. “Well, tomorrow's as good as any other day, I guess,” I say, shoving the stack of forms aside. Tomorrow I will throw myself upon her mercy and see what happens.

The halls of St. Mungo's are as dreary as ever and I wonder to myself how in the world anyone can manage to get better in this place. A man on a mission, I stride through the halls, heading unerringly for my destination. Turning a corner, I spot my quarry, her bright red hair the only splash of color in the gray-green atmosphere. 

The sight of her in the plain, figure-hiding Healer's robes makes my stomach lurch and I pause for a moment to gather my courage, watching her. She doesn't know I'm here yet and I watch her make quick notes in what must be a patient's file. Ginny is leaning on a counter, chatting with a mediwitch as she writes and she closes the file, laughing easily and sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear. 

I see Ginny check her watch and begin to move away from the counter and I walk as fast as I can without breaking into a run down the crowded hallway, ignoring the stares I get from the milling staff.

Turning her head, she sees my approach and I wince inwardly when I see her face settle into a frown and her normally warm brown eyes turn cold. I see her gaze flick over me, taking in my disheveled Auror uniform and I hope there isn't too much mud on my boots. “I have rounds. What do you want?” she says, her voice flat and unfriendly. 

Deep breath Potter, you can do this. “Gin, look I–”

“Acted like a despicable fuckwit?” She turns away and begins walking quickly down the hallway, leaving me to follow. I almost don't.

“Yes. Gin, I-”

“Don't know how to behave in polite company?” She stops outside a door and takes a folder from a pocket mounted on the wall, scanning the document inside, her brows knitted together in concentration. I can't help but admire her ability to hurl insults and do her job at the same time despite my annoyed state. She glares at me again making me squirm inside at the hot blast of disgust that washes over me. 

“Look Potter, don't think you can come in here and make this all better with your pretty face and sweet words. The way you behaved and what you said to me was insulting and disgusting and what's worse is I thought we were friends. You say these things to me in my own home and now you expect that I've cooled off and you can just waltz in here and smile at me and I'll forget all about it? Well, I've got news for you Harry James fucking Potter! Not everyone in this world exists to do your bidding. Not everyone in this world is going to bend over backwards to make you happy.” These words are delivered in a low voice and she points her finger at me for emphasis, almost digging it into my chest. Her face is red and I can hear her breath coming quickly and I see that her eyes are far from cold now. Despite her obvious anger at me, I can feel my body begin to respond and I curse myself silently.

“Gin let me–”

“No, Harry. I have work to do. I want you to get out of here and don't even think of bothering me at work again. The next time I see you here you'd better be bleeding from five different places!” This time she does poke me in the chest and I take a step back, stunned at her invective. She turns away from me and pauses for a moment before walking into the room and I hear her pleasant greeting to the patient inside. 

Okay. That went as well as could be expected, I guess. Dejected, I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling the small vial of cyanide we all carry and I think for a moment that it just might be my ticket out of my current misery before snorting at my own melodramatic thoughts. Glancing up, I catch the curious look of one of the mediwizards and I lift my eyebrow and shrug before moving on. 

A few minutes later, I am in my cubicle, moodily tossing an old, broken snitch up and down, trying to think of a way to patch this mess up. Part of me wants to be upset at the way Ginny acted at the hospital, but I know that everything is entirely my fault and she has every right to be upset. It's not her fault that I'm a bastard who thought he could have his cake and eat it too. I give the snitch another toss and sigh when it doesn't come back down again.

“Oi! Ron!” I shout, holding my right hand up in the air. The snitch comes sailing back over my cubicle wall and I catch it neatly, setting it back on my desk. Leaning back in my chair, I prop my boots up on the edge of the desk, idly using a letter opener to scrape off dried mud from our adventure in a fallow field that morning. I should be doing paperwork regarding that, but I don't feel like it.

A minute later, Ron leans his lanky frame against the doorway of my cube. “Missed you at lunch,” he says, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah. Sorry. Had a couple of errands.” I continue picking mud out of the thick tread on the bottom of my boots. I know it's going to end up a horrible mess when a quick cleaning charm would do, but after my latest encounter with Ginny, I can't quite bring myself to focus on her brother, afraid he'll be able to pick up on my distress.

“So, busy morning, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I focus my mental energies on making Ron go away and when he doesn't, I sigh and give up on picking the dried mud out of my boots. “What's up, Ron?”

“Nothing. Can't I come and have a chat with my best mate?” He's got his innocent face on and I know something is up.

“I've known you far too long for you to get away with that shite. Spill it.” My feet fall to the floor with a thump and I lean my elbows on the desk, carefully avoiding the small pile of dirt. 

“Well, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Oh, this doesn't sound good. “Ask away.”

“I wanted to know if there was something going on with you and Ginny.” He continues leaning easily on the open doorway, but I can see his muscles tense.

“No, there's nothing going on.” I work to keep my face impassive and fight the desire to tell Ron everything. Maybe with his help I can get Ginny to listen to me and accept my apology. With Ron in my corner, I maybe I can get her to give Hudson the old heave-ho. And then what? We live happily ever after? We continue how we were with the both of us too afraid to make an emotional commitment? No. She's found her happiness and she deserves every bit of it. 

“Oh. All right then. I just thought, you know.” 

“Thought what?”

“Well, last Sunday was pretty uncomfortable with you two. I don't think you even said anything.”

“She had Hudson to talk to, didn't she?” 

“Yeah. Hudson. I think it's time we did a bit of investigating on our new friend.” Wordlessly I pull open a desk drawer and hand him a sheaf of parchment. “Bloody hell, Harry! You've got his O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores! And is this his family tree?” He looks at me in amazement. “Harry, how did you get this?”

I just shrug and shake my head. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” Contrary to what Ginny said earlier, there were indeed some people willing to bend over backwards in order to make me happy. 

Ron grunts in reply, his eyes still fixed on the documents detailing Matthew Hudson's life and leaves my doorway for his own cubicle. Breathing a sigh of relief I sweep the pile of dirt off of the desk and pull out a bundle of forms, resolutely focusing on my task of documenting the morning's activities out in Exeter in triplicate. 

That evening after work I do go out with Ron to the pub, though I decline his offer to fix me up with a friend of the girl he's currently seeing. Instead, I brood at the bar, nursing a Guinness and trying to tune out the noise around me. A female voice next to me orders a vodka tonic and I turn my head slightly to look at her. She's pretty, brunette and about a head shorter than me and our eyes meet. I don't know her, but I know as soon as her eyes flick upwards to my scar that she's a witch.

Her dark eyes shine with amusement and she takes a sip of her drink. “Harry Potter,” she says, her smile evident in her voice. 

“You have me at a disadvantage,” I murmur, turning to face her, searching my memory for a younger version of her.

“I suppose I do. Helena Anderson. I was a fourth year Hufflepuff when you left Hogwarts.”

“Ah, okay.” I nod and step up my mental cataloging of faces, trying to keep my expression from becoming too panicked. 

“It's okay if you don't remember me from school. I didn't quite move in your circles.”

Embarrassed to be caught out, I laugh nervously and run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I suppose you didn't.” We fall into an easy conversation and move from the bar to a table near the back. I catch Ron's eye and see his nod of approval and I raise my glass to him in response. Almost before I know it, the pub is closing and I have a date with Helena for Friday night. I go home feeling good about myself for the first time in over a week and I realize that I haven't thought of Ginny or our current estrangement since I began talking to Helena and this makes me feel a little guilty, almost as if I had cheated on her.

~*~*~

This has to go on the record as the absolute worst time of my life. I have never been as angry with anyone as I am with Harry. Angry and heartsick. His words come back to me at the strangest times. I can be at work and I will hear the words in my mind, his voice a venomous hiss. _“I hope he makes you come hard, Gin, because I certainly won't be doing it anymore!”_

Last night, I was out with Mattie, walking down Diagon Alley and I heard it again. _“Do you scream when you're with him?”_ Startled, I gave a small jerk and Mattie squeezed my hand, asking if everything was okay. 

“Oh, yes, fine. Everything's fine.” I gave him a warm smile and continued walking. Everything was not fine–everything had gone to Hell as a matter of fact. After more than a week, I was still furious at Harry and even more furious with myself because I could feel my resolve to stay mad at him weakening.

Last Sunday at the Burrow it took almost all of my resolve to ignore him. Truthfully, I had expected him to make some attempt to apologize that day, but I was determined to make Harry suffer for as long as I could. He looked so miserable, but every time I felt my resolve weaken, I repeated his ugly words to myself, almost like a mantra to fuel my rage rather than calming me down.

But now I don't have time to dwell on former best friends. Today I am meeting with the board of St. Mungo's for that ward supervisor position that I am hoping with all my heart to get. Today, I must be composed, compassionate, professional and utterly in charge of all my faculties. 

Concentrating on filling out Mrs. Davis' chart, I chat with the mediwitch behind the desk, laughing at her joke as I close the chart and put it in a basket. I look up and I see Harry headed straight for me. For a moment my heart leaps but then I remember that I'm still upset at him and I ruthlessly squash the good feeling rising in my chest. 

Looking him up and down I notice that he's a mess. His tee shirt has a tear in the sleeve and there is dried mud spattered on his boots and black trousers. There are dark circles under his eyes and for a split second I feel sympathy for him and then my rage takes over. “I have rounds. What do you want?” I ask in the unfriendliest tone I can muster. I almost don't recognize the sound as my own voice.

“Gin, look I–”

“Acted like a despicable fuckwit?” I hear the mediwitch suck in a shocked breath and I walk quickly away to the next patient on my list. Marla Highsmith is just about the worst gossip in the whole place and I certainly don't need her to hear and repeat our conversation, whatever it may be.

“Yes. Gin, I–”

“Don't know how to behave in polite company?” I can tell Harry is annoyed–his lips are pressed together in a thin line and his eyes are narrowed. Absently, I wonder who did his eyes the last time. I snatch the patient chart from the pocket outside the door and scan it hastily. Harry is still standing next to me and I shoot him another glare. His presence here is completely unnerving me. I want to hug him and wring his neck at the same time. How can it be in me to love and hate the same person so much at the same time? 

Finally, I snap. “Look Potter, don't think you can come in here and make this all better with your pretty face and sweet words. The way you behaved and what you said to me was insulting and disgusting and what's worse is I thought we were friends. You say these things to me in my own home and now you expect that I've cooled off and you can just waltz in here and smile at me and I'll forget all about it? Well, I've got news for you Harry James fucking Potter! Not everyone in this world exists to do your bidding. Not everyone in this world is going to bend over backwards to make you happy.” Before I know it, the words are out of my mouth and I cannot take them back. What's worse, I don't want to. It makes me feel good to say these things to him, to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I couldn't find the words in my parent's house, but here at work where I always feel strong and in control, they come to me.

“Gin let me–”

“No Harry. I have work to do. I want you to get out of here and don't even think of bothering me at work again. The next time I see you here you'd better be bleeding from five different places!” The feeling is almost frightening, this wave of anger I have cresting inside of me. Frightening and exhilarating. I feel the heat in my face and I know I'm bright red but I don't care. It's nearly like I'm outside of my body, watching myself poke Harry in the chest, looking just like my mother when she would dress down Fred and George. 

Harry is stunned and I see him take a step back from me. The look on his face stops my tirade. All of the good feelings the fury brought drain out of me at his expression and I have to turn away from those green, green eyes. Resolutely, I remind myself that this is no less than he deserves. I bring my mantra back to the front of my memory and oddly, it calms me. Drawing on every ounce of professionalism I possess, I paste a smile on my face and greet the patient waiting for me. 

When I leave the room, Harry is gone and so is my rage. This is so pointless. I don't have the energy to maintain this feud between us. Why can't he be happy for me? Why does he have to make me feel bad for loving someone else?

I spend my lunch hour isolated from the hustle and bustle of the hospital, trying to prepare for my meeting with the board. This supervisor position is so important to me and if I don't get it I will feel like such a failure. I can hear my mother now. “Ginny dear, you're not a failure. Look at what you've already accomplished for one so young. You should be proud. I'm sure another position will open up for you and you'll be perfect for it.” Mothers. 

At the appointed time, I arrive at the boardroom, dressed carefully in the most professional-looking robes I own. My hair is arranged neatly and my makeup is perfect. As I wait for the door to open, memories of Harry's visit come to me and my stomach begins to churn. “Not now,” I groan quietly. “Come on, Ginevra. You can do this. This is cake. This is your place. You own this hospital. Now, go in there and make them believe it.” Pep talk over, I take a deep breath and walk into the imposing boardroom.

~*~*~

The morning after my disastrous trip to St. Mungo's I am digging in my old school trunk for the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five when my hand finds a small package. Frowning, I pull it out and look at the lump wrapped in one of my Uncle Vernon's old socks. “What in the world?” Carefully, I unwrap it and let out a short bark of laughter, looking at the miniature Hungarian Horntail stretching and yawning in the palm of my hand. 

I had forgotten all about her, left her in the trunk all these years in one of my uncle's clean but still horrible socks and she gives me a reproachful look. The magic on the figure has to be the best I've ever seen-eight years later she still moves as well as she did when I picked her out of the bag. 

As I watch her, a thought forms in my head and I nod. Setting the model on my desk, I pull parchment and ink toward me and write. 

_Ginny, I have got to be the biggest arsehole on the face of the planet. I am so sorry for my behavior and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. You may not believe me, but I truly am glad that you have found someone you love. I'm just a selfish prat who doesn't like to share his friends with anyone and I know I will never fully make it up to you, but please let me at least try. I am sending along another female that has good reason to hate me and I would like you to hold on to her, at least for a little while. Maybe you two can stay up late at night saying awful things about me. Truce? Your idiot friend, Harry._

Carefully, I place the model of the dragon back in the sock and tie it securely. I’ll have to post this with one of the office owls. The thought of sucking it up and sending my apology makes my heart feel lighter and the stomach churning that has been my constant companion for the last week and a half eases a little. 

A few hours later, I am at work and the Ministry owl sails into my cubicle. I don't know how they gets in here, but they do. There is a message tied to his leg and I notice the absence of Uncle Vernon's sock. I take a deep breath and untie the letter, giving the owl a couple of the owl treats I always keep in my desk. 

The parchment isn't red, I suppose that's a good sign. I unfold it and make a quick scan, searching Ginny's precise writing for swear words. Not finding any, I settle back in my chair and read it closely. 

_Harry, I received your package this morning and I have decided to let her stay. At least, for a little while. I agree that you are a selfish prat who must learn to share, but I have hope for you. If you continue on this course, I may consent to allowing you to visit me at work again, whether you are bleeding from five places or not, but don't push your luck too soon. I had my interview for the ward supervisor position yesterday and I hope to hear yea or nay today. If you feel you can keep a civil tongue in your head, you may join George, Ron, Matthew and I for a celebration or consolation at the Leaky Cauldron Saturday night at 8. If you like, bring a friend._  
Your smarter and more mature friend,  
Ginny.

Oh. Her interview was yesterday? I hope my impromptu visit didn't mess it up for her. The tone of her letter is light and friendly, but I am not fooled. She's still pissed off at me and if I can't behave myself, I will be in more trouble than ever before. I don't miss her not so subtle hint to get a friend of my own and I think of Helena and our impending date tonight. I am not usually nervous before a first date, but I must confess that I am feeling an attack of the butterflies at the moment.

That evening I dress with care, choosing to go casual in a polo shirt, jeans and a light windbreaker for the cool of the night. I am picking her up at her flat tonight and driving to a small restaurant out in the wilds of Surrey. I walk through the flat, tossing my car keys from hand to hand and pass Ron on his way out of the shower.

“Are you driving your date somewhere?” he asks suspiciously, drying his hair.

“Yes. Do I have your permission to use the car, Dad?”

“Wanker,” Ron snorts, tossing his wet towel at me. “Just make sure not to scare the shit out of her, yeah?”

I roll my eyes and grin. “Come on Ron, she's a grown woman. She's bound to have a stronger stomach than you.”

“Idiot. Get out of here. Have fun. See you in the morning.” He shoots me a wolfish grin and I shake my head. It's just a first date. We'll see how it goes.

The first date turns out to go very well. She is delighted by the novelty of riding in a car and I take pains to be on my best driving behavior. The conversation in the car is easy and I feel very relaxed for being on a first date. 

At the restaurant we have a quiet table and I take a quick look around, glad to not see anyone that I recognize as a wizard. Experience has taught me that it's best to take dates to places not frequented by the Wizarding world. One Daily Prophet front-page photo spread in my life was quite enough, thank you. 

Over dinner we converse, sharing memories of school and it is interesting to me to sort of see my younger school-self through her eyes. “We were all so fascinated by you,” she says, dark eyes sparkling over her wine glass. 

“Fascinated?”

“Oh yes,” she nods. “Growing up, I knew your name and when I got to school and you were there, running around with your friends and Hogwarts Champion...well, it was almost more than a little first year could take.”

I feel my face redden a little at her comments and I look down at my pint. She started Hogwarts in my fourth year and that makes me remember the Triwizard tournament and the tiny Hungarian Horntail apology I sent to Ginny just this morning. 

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” she asks, a look of concern on her pretty face.

Yes. “No, not at all. It's just a bit weird, yeah? I didn't know you at school, but you seem to have known me pretty well.” 

“Well, you could hardly help it, could you? Things always seem to happen around you, Harry.” I don't reply, knowing she is completely correct and she takes another sip of her wine before speaking again. “When I heard about the Yule Ball, I have to admit that I had a whole fantasy of you asking me to it.”

“A whole fantasy?” I grin and lean forward. Her hand is idly playing with her silverware and I casually lay my own on top of it. “You need to tell me about this fantasy of yours.”

Now it is her turn to blush and look down. “I couldn't. You'll think it's stupid and I have a policy against telling stupid stories about myself on first dates.”

“I promise I won't think it's stupid.”

“I don't know...”

“Come on. Auror's honor.” I squeeze her hand and she gives me a shy smile.

“Well, if you are swearing on your honor as an Auror, I suppose I could. Okay, here we go. Please remember that when I came up with this, I was only eleven years old.” I nod in encouragement. I have never heard of anyone harboring any fantasies of my hopelessly awkward fourteen-year-old self and I am eager to hear if I am more suave and confident in her imagination.

“It goes like this. We're all in the Great Hall and it's mealtime.”

“Which one?”

“I don't know, I never thought to put that in.”

“Well pick one.”

“Harry! It doesn't much matter which one, just that the Great Hall is packed with people,” she huffs, her eyes bright.

“Well, it could make a difference you know. Maybe I'm asking you before getting shit on by Snape in Potions and my attitude is better.”

“Look, do you want to hear this or not?”

“Sorry, sorry.” I grin at her and give her hand another squeeze. “Okay, I promise, no more interruptions.”

“Okay, so we're in the Great Hall and it's packed. Everyone is there-the professors, the visiting students, Mum and Dad-”

“Mum and Dad?”

“Hey, this is my fantasy and you said no more interruptions. Now be quiet.” I make a motion of zipping my lips and put on my best innocent face. “That's better. I'm sitting at the Hufflepuff table where I can watch you at the Gryffindor table.”

“You used to watch me?”

“Harry,” she says warningly before continuing. “You are sitting with your friends, talking and you look up and see me staring right at you and our eyes meet. I am mortified to be caught staring at you, but you don't seem to be bothered. You just smile at me and say something to your friend...”

“Ron,” I prompt.

“Right, Ron, and get up. I watch as you walk over to me, not taking your eyes off of me for even one second and I hold my breath. You finally reach me and get down on one knee-”

“One knee? It's a dance, not a marriage proposal!”

“I did say I was eleven, didn't I? I had very...odd ideas about romance then. You're supposed to be quiet. No wonder you got on Snape's nerves! Anyway, you're on one knee and you take my hand and ask me to the Yule Ball. I accept and the entire Hall erupts into applause. The end.” She looks flushed again and she takes a larger drink of her wine.

“That's it? The end?”

“That's it,” she confirms. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any...fantasies I should know about before this all goes too far?” She gives me an amused, calculating look through her lashes and I feel a wave of heat pass through me. 

“Fantasies? I reckon no one's asked me that before.” A quick flash of dark red hair spread out on a pillow and sleepy brown eyes framed by pale lashes passes through my brain and a spear of shock shoots down my spine. 

“Harry? Is something wrong?”

Wrong? Everything is wrong, but none of it is her fault. I push thoughts of Ginny away and focus on the lively, sexy woman in front of me. “No, nothing's wrong. I think that's us.” I motion to the approaching waiter and let go of her hand, glad for the distraction.

The rest of the evening passes very well and almost before I know it, we are standing in front of her building. The night is very cool and she shivers in her thin blouse and skirt and I put my arms around her, liking the way she fits in them. “So, did I live up to your expectations?” I murmur into her smooth hair.

“I would say so.” Helena rests her head on my chest and wraps her arms around me underneath my windbreaker.

“Listen, there's a thing tomorrow night for my friend, Ginny Weasley. Just drinks. Would you like to go? With me?”

“Tomorrow night? What time?”

“Eight o'clock.”

“I would love to go with you, Harry. Who else will be there?”

“Well, Ginny, her boyfriend, her brothers Ron and George. That's all I know for sure.”

“Oh, introducing me to everyone all in one go, eh?” She smiles up at me and I feel myself drawing forward, lowering my mouth to hers until our lips meet in a sweet, soft kiss. 

It's been such a long time since I've kissed anyone and I pray that I'm not botching the job. She begins kissing me back, harder, and from that I figure I am doing okay. Her strong hands stroke up and down my back and my own run up her arms and cup her face, her skin soft against my calluses. I feel her tongue move against my lips and I oblige, allowing her in to explore my mouth, exploring hers in turn. 

I don't know how long we stand there, sharing our heat in the cool night air before she pulls away and draws a shaky breath. My own heart is racing and my skin is prickling all over. “Harry,” she whispers, her voice low and husky, “would you like to...come up for a drink...or something?”

Or something indeed. My cock is impossibly hard, but I am hesitant to go up with her. I like Helena a lot and when I have gone up and slept with a woman on the first date, it has never turned out well. I already have one woman upset at me and I really don't need another one right now. 

“Helena, I don't think I will, tonight.”

Her disappointment is evident on her face, but she reacts with good humor. “What's the matter, Harry? Afraid I won't respect you in the morning?”

I lean in for another kiss and smile against her lips. “No, I'm afraid I might not respect myself.”

“That's another thing I remember from school days,” she whispers, kissing me again.

“What's that?”

“Your mile-wide honorable streak.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it can be a bit of a bother sometimes.”

“Keeps you out of trouble, though.”

Not really. Sometimes it gets me into more trouble than I can handle. “Yeah, sometimes.” I kiss her again and rub her arms through her thin blouse. “You should go up, it's getting colder. I'll owl you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay.” One last kiss and she walks backwards up the steps before finally disappearing into the building. I don't leave until I see a light come on in what I know is her flat. 

The next night we are all at the Leaky Cauldron, sitting around one of Tom's large round tables. I am placed between Helena and George and Ginny is across from me. This has the unfortunate effect of placing Hudson across from me also, but I am determined to be on my best behavior tonight. Tonight is a celebration for Ginny. 

“Harry, it's so good to see you!” she exclaimed when I walked in. She threw her arms around my neck and pulled me close, as if she had completely forgotten the unpleasantness that had so recently been between us. I breathed in deeply, the scent of her hair almost overwhelming my senses as I hugged her back briefly, unwilling to linger too long. 

“Congratulations, Gin,” I murmured as I pulled away. I grasped Helena's hand and gently pulled her forward. “Ginny Weasley, this is Helena Anderson. Helena Anderson, Ginny Weasley.” Introduced, the two girls shook hands and I watched Ginny look at Helena closely.

“Hufflepuff, right?” Ginny asked, flicking a quick glance at me.

“Yes. I would have been two years behind you. I remember seeing you around school. How nice to get a chance to finally meet you.” I couldn't have asked for a smoother introduction and I feel my heart begin to resume a more normal rhythm. 

So now we sit around the table, laughing and drinking. I am feeling very much at ease with one arm around Helena and I squeeze her shoulder and she turns to give me a warm smile. Leaning in to kiss her temple, I notice Ginny watching us out of the corner of her eye and a smaller, less evolved part of me feels a sort of satisfaction.

We are sharing a platter of assorted starters when I see Ron stiffen and look at me. “Harry–” A second later, I feel it too, a sharp burning sensation on my right shoulder and down my back to the middle of my ribs and I meet Ron's grim look. “But we're not–”

“I know.” We're not on the rotation tonight and we both know this can only mean that something big is happening. 

“Harry, what's going on?” Helena sounds confused and frightened as I stand up, shrugging into my windbreaker.

“I'm sorry, but I have to go. Auror summons.” The feeling is getting more intense and I look at Ginny. She looks scared and resigned, her eyes darting between her brother and me. Hudson actually looks offended at our necessary departure and he attempts to hide his scowl in his pint. I give Helena a quick kiss and prepare to leave.

“Harry,” Ginny says, reaching her hand out to me. I take it and she squeezes mine tightly. “Be safe.”

“Always.” I grimace against the pain in my shoulder and Disapparate, appearing a moment later in a dark alleyway. Adrenaline is already pumping through my system and I am aware of Ron behind me. I look at him and we both grin wildly, the electricity between us almost visible. 

“What's going on? We're not in the rotation.” Ron asks Johnson while changing the brilliant blue color of his polo shirt to black. I follow suit with my own dark green shirt and blue jeans, automatically checking my calf for my knife.

“Oh, you want this one. It's Macnair.” The excitement is evident in her voice and I feel my heart begin to beat faster. Macnair. Ron and I have an axe to grind with him and we have been dreaming of this day since we took the Auror's oath. Shacklebolt joins us to brief us on the situation and we run off into the dark night.

~*~*~

I hate this. When they're called away and I'm left to wait and wonder. It's bad enough when it's one of them, but when they're both called, the anxiety of waiting is unbearable. They could be gone two hours or two days, I never know until one or the both of them show up on my doorstep with something broken or bleeding. 

“Darling, are you okay?” Mattie's voice comes to me as if from far away and I look up from the scarred surface of the table.

“Sorry. Yes, fine.” I give him what I hope is a cheerful smile and catch George’s eye. He raises his eyebrow at me and inclines his head at Helena, who is sitting and looking quite small. “Helena,” I say gently, reaching across the table to grasp one of her hands. Startled, she looks up at me and I see her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. “He'll be fine, don't worry. Harry's tough.”

She gives me a watery smile and I can almost hear the thoughts going through her head. It's always so hard on the girls Harry and Ron see when they are summoned, especially for the first time. Helena stays for a little while before excusing herself to go home and I don't blame her. 

Mattie and George do their best to keep the conversation going, but I'm not into it and I also excuse myself. “I'll come with you,” says Mattie, standing up and helping me with my light jacket. I catch George making a simpering face at him and I give him a good glare.

Not able to come up with a good way to say no to my boyfriend in front of my brother, I acquiesce and Apparate directly to my flat. Mattie joins me shortly after and starts a fire and lights some candles, romance clearly on his mind. We spend some time kissing on my comfortable couch and I can tell he wants more, but I am truly not in the mood. 

“What's wrong?” he asks after I gently push his hand away from my breast. 

My brother and best friend are out risking their lives at this very moment and I can't stand it. I can't focus on anything else right now and being on this couch, safe and warm with Mattie feels very wrong, but of course I don't say this. “Nothing, I'm just tired...didn't sleep well last night.” He looks at me, his eyes full of concern and a bit of frustration. “I've got a bit of a headache. I think I'll go have a lie down.” Never in my life did I think I would be pulling out the old headache excuse to get out of sex.

“Do you want company?” he asks, trailing his finger down my bare arm.

“No, I don't think so. I'm sorry. All the...excitement, I guess.” It takes a little doing, but I finally convince him that I am just a little tired and I get him out of my flat. Once he's gone, I make some tea and settle down to wait.

The waiting doesn't take as long as I thought it would and I hear a knock on my door shortly after midnight. Afraid of what I might find waiting in the hallway, I open the door slowly, relieved to see a whole Harry standing in front of me. I want to jump on him and hug him tightly, but I restrain my impulse and invite him to come in. He looks tired and collapses on the couch with a grunt.

“Where's Ron?” I ask, automatically putting together a cup of tea for him.

“Dunno. Home, I expect.” His voice is dull and he accepts the cup woodenly. 

“Oh? Did things not...go well?” I sit next to him on the couch and covertly give him a once over. For once, it doesn't look like there's a scratch on him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No to both.”

“Oh.” I sit quietly and sip my tea. I know he'll eventually come around if I give him time. After a few minutes, he speaks again.

“He got away.”

“Who?”

“Macnair.”

“Oh. Sorry, Harry.”

“Yeah, so am I. Ron's livid.”

“I can imagine. He's been wanting Macnair for a long time. The both of you have.”

He blows out a long breath and gives me a smile. “Ah well. There will be a next time. I should stop being such a moody arse on your celebration day.”

“That was officially yesterday.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don't. Not your fault, okay?”

“Okay.” We're quiet again and I think of the other unsaid things between us and I have to get up and put some distance between him and I. “Hungry?” I ask, moving to the small kitchen.

“Um, a little.”

“Feel like anything in particular?”

“No. Surprise me.” Harry continues to stare into the fire as I get out bread and the golden syrup and slather a few pieces very generously with the sticky stuff, creating what I think is the perfect comfort food. 

I freshen his tea and set the plate with the sweet treat in front of him on the coffee table. “Oh, brilliant, Gin. You always seem to know what I need.” He smiles warmly at me and I see the tension leave him as he eats. I set my empty teacup on the table and he takes it, turning it upside down on the now empty plate, allowing the remains to the liquid to drain out.

“What are you doing?”

“I am going to read your tea leaves.” He turns the cup back over and peers into it.

“You are? And you think you'll be able to see anything?”

He looks up at me with a mock scowl and I am relieved to see his old playfulness coming back. “After three years of Divination, I had better be able to. Now be quiet, I need to concentrate.” I stifle a giggle and sit back in the couch, wondering if he's actually going to try anything for real or fall back on his old standby of making everything up.

“Well, I see you've got a large blob here that looks rather like a horse's arse.” Ah, making it up it is. His green eyes meet mine and I see his sincerity. “Listen, Gin, I was a real twat about the whole Matthew thing and I'm sorry. You don't deserve that kind of treatment and I have no excuse to act like a spoilt child.”

He looks down again into the cup and sighs. All of the residual anger I have harbored over the last two weeks toward him drains out of me and I feel lighter. “Well, I suppose your reaction wasn't exactly unexpected given our...history together.” I say this quietly, reflecting on that history. From my schoolgirl crush to our first fumbling nights together. As much as I might have once wanted it to be so, I know that Harry and I are not meant for each other. There is no way I could spend the rest of my life waiting for him the way I did tonight. Waiting and worrying about his safety, wondering if tonight was going to be the night he just didn't come back.

“It still doesn't make it all right.” He sets the cup back on the table and relaxes back into the couch.

“I know. Your apology makes it better, though.” We look quietly at each other in the flickering firelight, old friends and occasional lovers. “Helena seems like a nice girl,” I venture, saying it to break the silence.

“Yeah, she is.”

I lean in closer to him and take his hand. “Tell me about your new girlfriend, Harry.”

~*~*~

By my third cup of tea, I can feel the adrenaline draining out and I know I have to get home and crash or I will end up on her couch. Not for the first time, but it is not where I want to end up all the same. 

“Gin, I'm about dead. I have to go.”

Ginny nods, yawning hugely and smiles at me. “You've had a busy night Harry.” I notice she does not invite me to stay, even if it's just on her couch. 

“Yeah.” I stand and stretch, pulling my windbreaker back on. She stands up as well and we look at each other for a moment and I smile. “Tell me, Gin, do you really think I have a pretty face?”

She shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. “I should have known that would come back to haunt me.”

She stands with her arms folded across her chest and I hesitantly reach out to hug her. I know we might never go back to being the occasional lovers we once were, but I would much rather have her friendship than have nothing at all and I say so.

“I know Harry. That's what makes you a good person,” she says, returning my hug. 

“If I'm good, then you must be bloody fantastic.”

“I am, and don't you forget it.” We laugh and she pulls away. “Good night, Jamie.”

“Good night, Ginevra.” I Disapparate out of her flat, reappearing almost instantly in my own bedroom and fall into bed a few minutes later, thoughts of Helena and Ginny swirling in my head. I'll need to see Helena as soon as I can tomorrow. An Auror summons is always a shock and a deal breaker for some. I sincerely hope it's not a deal breaker for Helena.


End file.
